


Ein großes Geheimnis

by NikoNotHere, Wahnsinn



Series: Rammstein collaborations [3]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Afterparty, Drinking, Feeling B - Freeform, Gen, Hangover, Humor, Inchtabokatables, Nicknames, Pre-Rammstein, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24969028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/pseuds/NikoNotHere, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahnsinn/pseuds/Wahnsinn
Summary: Paul is sick of Flake's complaining about not getting laid.
Series: Rammstein collaborations [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797532
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18
Collections: Rammstein - Flashback - June prompt





	Ein großes Geheimnis

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is another collaboration between [Wahnsinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahnsinn/) and [NikoNotHere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/). Written for the monthly challenge of the [Rammstein+ Discord server](https://archiveofourown.org/works/discord.gg/mavzqXf) where the June prompt was «Flashback – pre-Rammstein era». The title translates to _A Tall Secret_.

Paul wearily propped his face up in one of his hands, the other nursing a half-drunk beer. Flake seemed downright determined to talk his ears off tonight, and Paul hadn’t drank enough yet to be entertained by the man’s annoying chatter. All he’d wanted was to enjoy the little get-together with his friend from the band who’d played earlier. Paul had been invited to a friends-only afterparty hosted by the Inchtabokatables at the conclusion of their show, but the band had yet to show up. In the meantime, Flake-- whom Paul had invited along more as a courtesy than anything-- refused to shut up. Flake was also already very drunk, having gone non-stop since before the concert even started. Now, all Paul heard was Flake’s incessant complaining about not currently having a woman on his arm.

“I’m sure it’s my body,” Flake whined. “Girls don’t want tall and skinny. They just want big with muscles and stuff everywhere.”

“Oh trust me, I’m _very_ sure it’s not your body that repels women,” Paul said snarkily, hoping Flake would take the hint.

He didn’t, of course. “But then what? I just don’t get it.”

“Well it’s clearly not your firm grasp on social cues,” Paul muttered, draining the last of his beer. He looked around the smallish green room for someone to save him from Flake’s pestering. Unfortunately, it was a fairly new group of people, presumably also friends of the band. Though Paul knew _of_ several people, he didn’t _know_ any of them. Damn.

“I think my physique--”

“Hey, did you notice the Inchies’ new bassist?” he interrupted Flake’s self-degradation, suddenly remembering the nickname his friend had used for the bass player, hoping that could shut Flake up for a few minutes. 

“Not really, no,” Flake said, successfully stopped in his train of thought.

“Well, if you had paid attention to him, Oliver-something, he’s like way over 2 meters tall, and pretty slim too. But you know what his nickname is? Orgien-Olli. Clearly you have a chance at it if he does, so it's not your body type.”

“What?” Flake exclaimed. “How? He has orgies?” 

Flake was sufficiently dumbstruck, Paul thought smugly. Now he’d be sure to leave him alone--

“Who calls him that? Does he really fuck that much? How tall exactly? Orgies???”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Paul threw his head back and sighed, loudly and obnoxiously. If Flake saw it, he either ignored it or didn’t think it was directed at him, because he kept on with his bombarding of questions.

“Look, Flake, I have no idea,” Paul said, yet again interrupting the man’s babblings. “I'm pretty sure he’s taller than you, and if he has that nickname, I assume he fucks a lot! If you want to know so badly, why don’t you go ask him yourself?”

Flake seemed stunned at the thought that he could indeed ask on his own.

Paul looked around again, wildly hoping the band had finally made it back to the party. With his desperation making his eyesight quite sharp, he spotted an exceptionally tall man moving around the small corner kitchen area, doing an impressive job of somehow blending into the walls around him despite his height.

Perfect.

“Hey, look Flake,” Paul said, spinning his band mate around to face the kitchenette. “That’s Olli over there. Why don’t you go ask him where he got the nickname and how you can get laid or whatever.”

Flake gasped. The man had medium-length, messily styled hair; he was wearing a red singlet, jeans, and a sheepskin vest; and he was casually leaning against the wall as if the wall was put there simply to support him. And - he was really tall.

Paul snickered at how mesmerised Flake seemed to be by Oliver. Quite frankly, he had no idea how a man seemingly hiding in a kitchen at an afterparty could be a womaniser, but as long as he could take Flake off his hands, it was totally irrelevant.

“He’s so tall…” Flake breathed.

“Yep. Now go say hi and try not to scare him off,” Paul said, giving Flake a hard push toward the kitchen.

“But,” Flake stalled, “I don’t know what to say to him!”

Paul sighed. “I’m sure you can come up with something; you seem to be good at this talking thing,” he said, trying to sound as encouraging as possible without the sarcasm seeping through too much.

“Maybe...” Flake said, moving back towards Paul, “Maybe I can say that we tall people need to help each other out.”

“Sure, Flake! Do that! Now!” Paul was getting more desperate by the minute.

“But if he realizes I’m not like him, perhaps he doesn’t want to share his secrets,” Flake muttered.

Rolling his eyes openly, Paul sighed even deeper. “If he doesn’t want to share his secrets, it doesn’t matter what you are like, does it?”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me since I’m not a hot girl?” Flake whined.

“He is standing by himself in a goddamn kitchen with no girls here anyway! Now is your opportunity before all the hot girls start surrounding him! If you're lucky, you’ll be there with him when they come!”

Deciding to take the matter into his own hands, Paul grabbed Flake by the arm, hauling him over to where Oliver was standing and dumping him off in front of a very surprised bassist. 

“Hi! I’m Paul, nice to meet you! Great concert today!” he exclaimed, putting on his most charming smile. “My friend Flake here really wants to talk to you, he’s just a bit shy, so I figured I’d help him a bit, I’m sure you’ll get along, see ya!”

With that, Paul bolted back to the other side of the room, leaving the two tall men in the kitchen, Oliver with a very confused look on his face, Flake looking slightly flustered.

“Erm-eh-uh, h-h-hi,” Flake stuttered, mentally cursing at himself for doing so.

“Hi?” Oliver stared at the man in front of him with wide open eyes. “Aren’t you the Feeling B…”

“Yes!” Flake immediately replied, encouraged by the younger man recognising him. “I played the bass too, you know! We're fellow bassists! And both tall! What a coincidence!”

Oliver looked puzzled. “I thought you played keyboards?”

"I, well, yes, but bass too!" he grinned nervously, hoping the apparent 'camaraderie' of bass playing would be enough to make him interesting enough for Oliver's tastes.

“So what kind of bass do you play? And nice to meet you - Flake, was it? I’m--” Oliver smiled, holding out his hand.

“Orgien-Olli!” Flake blurted out, shaking Oliver’s hand vigorously. "I've heard of you!"

A blush spread on Oliver’s cheeks. “I just use Olli,” he mumbled shyly. “And I like your band. So about your bass…”

“Oh, I see, you don’t want people to know,” Flake slurred, adding an obvious wink. “Your secrets are safe with me, of course, if you don’t mind sharing them with a fellow bassist - and tall man.”

“My - secrets?” Oliver went back to looking utterly confused.

"Yeah," Flake suddenly dropped his voice to an overly loud whisper, "the _orgy_ secrets."

Oliver blushed again, desperately trying to steer the conversation back into music. “That’s just a silly nickname. But since you are in Feeling B, I…”

"Yes, yes, obviously that's what you have to tell people so they don't suspect anything," Flake interrupted obliviously. "But it's _me_. I'm also tall, also a bassist…"

“I really thought you were a keyboardist? And I can see that you are tall - but I don’t understand why you keep telling me that...” Oliver almost tried to melt into the wall behind him, his eyes flicking from side to side looking for an escape.

"Because we're the same!" Flake insisted, inching closer to the very uncomfortable Oliver. "And since we're so alike, it's only fair to share your secrets; the ones for the orgies, of course. We almost have the same hair!" Reaching out, Flake gently touched Oliver’s half-long hair.

For a second, Oliver stood in total disbelief of what was happening. Then, in one swift, elegant motion, he slipped under Flake’s arm and walked in long strides towards the back door. “I - I need some air,” he stammered, hoping to get away from the man who was totally weirding him out.

However, Flake was not ready to let the man with the secrets slip out of his hands just like that. Stumbling out of the kitchen at an impressive speed for how intoxicated he was, he quickly caught up with Oliver and hooked an arm around his shoulder.

“I’ll join you!” Flake proclaimed, and added in a whisper, “Less people outside that could happen to hear about your secrets!”

Paul, who had found a quiet chair where he could enjoy another beer in relative silence, could not help but laugh loudly from how miserable Oliver seemed, totally ignoring the pleading look in his eyes. At least it wasn’t him, Paul thought happily.

“I see you two have become good friends,” he giggled, lifting his beer as they passed him on the way outside, Flake giving him a not very well hidden thumbs up.

Oliver’s mind was racing as he tried to figure out how he could lose the man that now seemed totally latched onto him. As he made his way towards the door, with Flake in tow, he considered making a run for it, and then sneak back later to pick up his bass. At the same time, he didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the Feeling B musician who seemed to genuinely think he had - of all things - some sort of secret to getting laid just because of the stupid nickname his bandmates had given him.

Resigned, Oliver grabbed a bottle of beer from a case near the door, figuring he might as well drink some more. Nodding to the guard by the backstage entrance, he opened the door, and the two men stepped out into the dimly lit back alley.

A shrill sound threatened to pierce Oliver’s eardrums. With a glimpse of terror in his eyes, the tall man seemed to shrink down as he saw the group of female fans sprinting towards him, pointing and screaming his name in a ridiculously high pitch. Seconds after, the two musicians found themselves surrounded by girls.

“Aha!” Flake exclaimed triumphantly, pointing at Oliver.

“Aha?” Oliver replied, squeezing his back up against the wall, inching slowly back towards the door.

Flake replied with another of his extremely obvious winks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone!”

Oliver was about to say something, but changed his mind. Turning to the girls, he tried to smile. “Eh, girls, this is my friend Flake, he plays in a very popular band called Feeling B, and he would love to get to know you better!”

“You’re really in Feeling B?” one of the girls asked sceptically, sizing Flake up and down.

“I promise, he is!” Oliver reassured, and suddenly, the girls seemed to shift their interest at Flake, who was now sporting a huge grin.

“Thanks for not telling anyone my secret. Enjoy!” Oliver whispered in his ear before disappearing with a relieved smile on his face.

Flake’s ecstatic voice carried with him back inside, “Just call me Ficken-Flake!”

\-- 

Hot sun beat on his face, causing sweat to trickle down onto his closed eye and tickle him. Flake groaned and wiped a sluggish hand across his head. Why on earth was he on the floor? And what’s more, why was he on the floor sleeping instead of the couch directly next to him? 

As he sat up, the simultaneous pounding in his head as well as the clenching in his stomach informed him exactly why he was on the floor.

“Hangover,” he whispered to himself, mainly to be self-comforting with the sound of his own voice and remind himself he wasn’t yet dead.

Flake recalled the concert from the night before, but only vaguely. At least he was in their apartment and not the street outside like last time.

“Pauuuuul,” Flake moaned, crawling up onto the couch. “Did we go to that afterparty last night?”

Paul waltzed into the room, cheerily holding a fresh pot of coffee and a mug that he didn’t offer to Flake. A devious sparkle hit his eyes as he realized something. “You don’t remember last night?”

Flake shot him a death glare. “Obviously not. A yes or no is sufficient.”

“Oh yes, we did. It was a lovely time. The Inchie guys are great.”

“Excellent, glad it was good. Give me that coffee.”

Paul yanked it away and tutted at Flake. “No sir, this is for our guests. You really don’t remember last night at all, do you?”

“Paul, I would strangle you if I could move from this couch. What did I do this time that you’re so pleased about?”

With an exceptionally smug smile, Paul said, “Well, let’s just say you and the Inchtabokatables’ tall, handsome bassist got _very_ close last night. Exchanged secrets, so to speak.”

Flake immediately shot up, despite the painful throbbing in his head and sickly rolling stomach. “Excuse me? Cut it out, Paul; I know you’re fucking around.”

Right then, a certain “tall, handsome bassist” smoothly walked through the living room, nodding to Paul and giving Flake a very goofy grin. 

“Morning, _Ficken-Flake_ ,” Oliver greeted before walking into the dining room. 

Flake was left open-mouthed on the couch as Paul cackled his way after Oliver to join the rest of the Inchies for breakfast.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Orgien-Olli was Oliver Riedel's actual nickname at the time. The story of how he got it can be found in [this Instagram post](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_SJr3BnI4e/). 
> 
> We had lots of fun writing this piece, and we hope that you enjoyed it as well! As always, we love to hear your feedback. Thank you for reading!


End file.
